Pleasure Before Business
by kathmandu
Summary: Edward Dillinger Jr. thought he had hidden his long-time crush on Alan Bradley extremely well. In fact, he was almost positive that Bradley hadn't noticed a thing. Turns out, he hadn't hidden his feelings quite as well as he'd originally believed...


The hand, with its long and elegant fingers, pounds out a steady tempo on the glossy wooden surface of the table beneath. The motion itself seems to be entirely unconscious, as if the owner's strong emotions, usually kept sealed away beneath an outward expression of studied politeness, must inevitably find some other form of physical outlet.

_It all makes for a very interesting puzzle_, Ed has to admit, still watching Bradley covertly. And puzzles are something that Ed has been interested in for a long time, stemming from the first time Ed took apart his old Apple IIc Plus just to see how the parts all fit together.

On the surface, Alan Bradley, long-time Encom employee and Executive Consultant to the company, lives a rather mundane existence. Bradley's life is driven by his work and his inexplicable devotion to the mysterious Kevin Flynn, who has been listed as officially missing for well over 20 years now. Bradley also struggles to uphold the Flynn legacy within a corporate framework that's becoming increasingly driven by rising profits and shareholder greed.

Yes, Bradley should be nothing more to Ed than a stuffed-shirt, glorified relic of Encom's dubious past, someone kept around more for loyalties' sake than anything else.

Occasionally, however, Ed thinks he catches irresistible glimpses of another Alan Bradley. This other version is fierce and determined, unwilling to concede the discussions about Encom's future even in the face of inevitable defeat. This Bradley also seethes with barely-leashed passion and enthusiasm when talking about the Flynn's and their enduring importance to the company. It's altogether a distracting spectacle, and one that never fails to take Ed's breath away the precious few times he's been allowed to witness it.

It's this complexity that once again leaves Ed unable to give their current business meeting his full and undivided attention. Unfortunately, this distraction also means that Ed fails to hear Mackey calling his name three times in a row.

Patricia Jalardy, the current Head of Sales for Encom, clears her throat pointedly and gives Ed a sudden swift kick under the table with her left heel.

Jumping slightly, Ed looks around and finds himself surrounded by a sea of interested faces, each one studying him with varying degrees of curiosity. Well, except for Mackey - who merely looks annoyed at having to repeat himself - and Bradley, who is staring at Ed with a different, and much more intense, expression in his blue eyes.

Strongly hoping that the sudden heat filling his cheeks is only in his imagination, Ed thinks now would be a really good time to get his head back in the game.

"Yes, Mr. Mackey. Could you repeat that, please," Ed requests belatedly, figuring that he might as well acknowledge the fact that he hadn't been paying attention, since it was so blatantly obvious to everyone in the room.

Pursing his lips and looking like he'd bitten into a sour lemon, Mackey inquires silkily, "I'm sorry, Mr. Dillinger, am I _boring_ you? Is that why you seem to be incapable of paying attention during our weekly staff meetings? I would have thought that some of this might be of interest to you, since your own department is currently having such a miserable 3rd quarter."

Valiantly resisting the sudden impulse to roll his eyes at Mackey's histrionics, Ed replies tersely, "Oh, it is, Mr. Mackey. It's just... from the looks of things, I might not be the only one around here about to fall asleep." Ed shoots a meaningful glance in the direction of Markus Grenwald, where the VP of Marketing was struggling to hide a truly impressive yawn beneath his right hand.

The room fills abruptly with sounds of abortive laughter and fits of coughing, and when he sees poor Grenwald start to look embarrassed and flustered, Ed has to stifle a snicker of his own.

Looking like he was seriously contemplating going from merely annoyed into the realm of completely angry and pissed off, Mackey opens his mouth to continue his tirade when the chairman is unexpectedly interrupted. The voice that cuts through the tension is deep and rich, with a gravelly undertone that Ed admits to finding rather _interesting_.

"Mr. Mackey, if I may," Alan says, keeping his eyes fixed on Ed the entire time, "go out on a limb, here, I'm sorry to say that I don't believe we're going to be able to accomplish anything more for today. It's obvious that Mr. Dillinger has lost his focus, and I think it might even be time for the rookie's nap." As he finishes speaking, Bradley's upper lip twitches like he's trying to hold back a smile of his own – this one entirely at Ed's expense.

Eyes glinting angrily from behind his trendy glasses, Ed clenches his hands under the glossy tabletop and seriously starts to question his own sanity. Why is Ed so fascinated by a man that clearly has no respect for him?

With more than a trace of bitterness, Ed starts to reply, "Hey, Bradley, what do you think you –"

"_Mr. Dillinger_," Mackey calls out sharply, "seeing as how you've taken it upon yourself to distract us twice in one meeting, I think that Mr. Bradley's suggestion might actually have some merit. So in that case, I think we would all appreciate it if you would go and get some rest, take some time to clear your head, and then we'll all continue this meeting tomorrow at the same time. Any objections?"

There is tense silence for a moment, as everyone in the room tries very hard to avoid looking anywhere near Ed's direction. Ed stays silent, but can't help glaring at the room at large, even though Ed knows there's no one else to blame but himself for his current predicament. Well, and _Bradley_.

Hearing no objections come forth, Mackey pronounces with obvious satisfaction, 'Very well. Meeting adjourned. I will expect to see everyone here tomorrow, ready and willing to finally get some actual work done." Then, sending a final dissatisfied frown in Ed's direction, Mackey begins to file out of the room along with the other Encom employees, all of whom do nothing to hide their profound relief at being able to escape relatively unscathed.

Looking down, Ed shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths in an effort to stay calm. _Dammit!_ He knows better than to open his mouth and smart off like that – particularly during a meeting, no less – but he hadn't able to stop it. Stupid Bradley and his 'rookie' comment…

"Problems, Dillinger," questions Bradley in smooth, unruffled tones, successfully disrupting Ed's mental barrage of self pity.

Glancing up sharply, Ed can't help but notice that he and Bradley are now the only two people left in the room. Feeling strangely uneasy, Ed nonetheless locks eyes with the older man, disgusted to see that Bradley's calm exterior matches up with his voice perfectly. It's only too obvious that Bradley isn't feeling the least bit repentant about verbally throwing Ed under the bus just moments before.

Squaring his shoulders in determination, Ed stands up quickly, sending his chair rolling towards the wall from the force of his upward momentum. Then, striding around the large table, Ed comes to an abrupt stop a mere three feet from where Bradley is standing. The older man is watching Ed intently, obviously taking in Ed's tense muscles and the agitated breaths Ed can't seem to quiet.

Mouth opening and closing a few times, Ed struggles to find the right words to say. Ed wants to tell Bradley that he's angry, that he can't believe the older man would actually humiliate him like that in front of _everyone_… But most of all, Ed wants some kind of relief from the inexplicable _betrayal_ he feels whenever he mentally replays Bradley's earlier actions.

It all makes absolutely no sense to Ed. Sure, he's been keeping a closer eye on Bradley lately, but that alone can't account for the sudden aching pain located somewhere behind Ed's breastbone…

Stopping his wayward thoughts in their tracks and promising to examine them later, Ed asks harshly, "Just what were you trying to pull with that little stunt today, Bradley? Are you feeling a little threatened by the fact that there's a new prodigy working for the company, and his name isn't _Sam Flynn_? Well, sorry to disappoint you, old man."

If Ed had paused to think about how Bradley might respond to Ed's little dig, he still would have never guessed what actually happened next.

Bradley goes eerily still, seemingly to the point of not even breathing. Then, with his light eyes taking on that familiar heated glow, Bradley stalks forward, aggressively invading Ed's space and almost forcing the younger man to step back in alarm.

His breath catching in his throat, Ed swallows convulsively as Bradley shifts even closer. Bradley then leans his head down and maneuvers his mouth into a perfect position to lightly graze Ed's ear with his lips.

Ed can feel his heart pounding in his chest and hear his pulse thundering in his ears. He can't believe this is happening. Can't even begin to figure out exactly what this is –

"This isn't about the Flynn's. _Either_ of them," Bradley whispers harshly, his breath hot and moist and this, along with Bradley's words, proves more than enough to send a shiver up and down Ed's spine.

Before Ed can do more than blink in surprise, Bradley has already shifted away and begun moving in the direction of the door. Ed can feel himself floundering, unable to cope with the sudden influx of warring instincts and emotions that keep his feet glued to the floor and his eyes wide open and staring as the other man finally leaves.

_Jesus_, Ed thinks to himself, _just what the hell was that?_

-

Ed groans wearily, plucking off his glasses and folding them, before proceeding to lay them down on the exterior of his desk. Ed then rubs at his eyes with tired fingers, trying to convince himself that he really _can_ make it through the next couple of program simulations without his eyeballs starting to bleed and his migraine making his head explode.

Man, what a shitty day this has been.

Sighing in defeat, Ed is just about to call it a day when there's an unexpected knock at the door. Confused – surely everyone else must have already gone home for the day, since it was well after 8 PM– but admittedly curious, Ed calls out for the other person to enter…

…and gets the surprise of this life when Alan Bradley walks in, still looking smooth and polished and without so much as a hair out of place despite the late hour.

While outwardly he doesn't allow so much as an eyebrow twitch to escape from behind his composed façade, inwardly Ed is wincing and trying to stifle the urge to just grab his jacket and glasses and start running for the exit.

He isn't in the mood to deal with Bradley right now, and if Ed thought his headache was bad before it couldn't possibly compare to the new sensation of ice-picks trying to jab their way through his temples.

Reaching for his nearby forgotten glasses, Ed pauses to rub the side of his head – the spot where the pain is the worst – before he turns his full attention to Bradley once again. To give the older man credit, at least he doesn't try to fill the silence with the sort of useless idle chitchat which Ed has always found incredibly annoying.

Now that Ed has his glasses back on, he can see the little details about Bradley's appearance that he had missed before. Although still looking far better than he had any right to, Bradley wasn't quite as immaculate looking as Ed originally believed. For one thing, Ed notices that Bradley's suit jacket and tie are missing and his hair, when Ed looks closely, seems to be a bit mussed, as if Bradley had run his hands through it one too many times.

There is also - if Ed's eyes aren't so tired that they're now playing tricks on him - something that looks a whole lot like a bottle of whiskey dangling carelessly from Bradley's right hand.

Blinking his eyes rapidly, Ed doesn't know what the hell to think. After what happened earlier in the day Ed could have sworn that he would be the _last_ person Bradley would want to spend his off-hours hanging out with.

_And the feeling is entirely mutual_, Ed reminds himself forcefully. There is simply no way that Ed could still care about what Bradley thinks of him.

Keeping that in the forefront of his thoughts, Ed says blankly, "Bradley. What are you doing here?"

With practiced nonchalance, Bradley replies, "Dillinger. I was on my way out when I noticed that the light in your office was still on. So thinking that it might be wise to 'bury the hatchet' so to speak, I went back to my office to fetch a little something. I suppose you can consider a peace offering." So saying, Bradley lifts up the whiskey bottle in his hand and shakes it a bit for added emphasis.

Lifting one eyebrow in cool disdain, Ed snorts loudly before stating mockingly, "A _peace offering_. You come into my office, bringing booze and a half-assed attempt at an apology, and you call it all a _peace offering_."

Shaking his head in disgust, Ed continues flatly, "_Bullshit_. That's what you really should have called it, which would at least have the benefit of being honest."

Bradley frowns and tilts his head inquiringly, before saying, "Look, rookie, I don't know what you -"

"STOP SAYING THAT!"

Ed is trembling. He looks down at his own body in surprise, also astonished to find that the nails of each hand are digging into the flesh of his palms. He doesn't feel it. He also isn't aware of having stood up, even though it's apparent that Ed is no longer sitting in his chair.

What he is aware of – the _only_ thing he's aware of - is the rage and frustration currently surging through his veins. Surely it must have been these overpowering emotions that made Ed raise his voice like that. How ridiculous. How _foolish_.

Breathing erratically and still feeling out of control, Ed nevertheless repeats in a softer voice, "Stop saying that. Don't call me 'rookie'. I don't like it. Just…oh for god's sake, just call me 'Ed' already."

Staring at him silently for a moment, Bradley blinks before shifting his gaze to the small sofa resting along one side of Ed's small office. Bradley then moves forward and takes a seat, setting the bottle of alcohol down on the glass coffee table directly in front of him.

Turning his attention back to Ed, Bradley reaches out a hand to pat the open spot next to him, gesturing for Ed to join him, before finally demanding gently, "Come over here and sit down, Ed."

And not knowing what else to do, Ed obeys.

Sitting down next to Bradley, Ed takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. He feels a bit more relaxed and in control, but all the stress hasn't helped Ed's headache at all. Flinching, Ed tries to remember where he keeps his aspirin, when he abruptly realizes that Bradley is monitoring his every move.

"Headache," Bradley questions perceptively, those sharp eyes apparently not missing a thing.

"Y-Yeah. Hurts like hell," Ed stammers a bit, still unused to having such intensity directed towards him.

Looking contemplative, Bradley reaches out one hand and picks up the whiskey bottle from where he'd left it, shaking the contents slightly before slowly unscrewing the cap.

Bemused, Ed watches Bradley glance around the room, unsuccessfully trying to find some glasses for the two of them, before Ed finally takes pity on him, "I don't have any glasses if that's what you're looking for…Sorry."

Waving a hand dismissively, Bradley says, "Then I guess we'll just improvise," and then proceeds to take a large swig directly from the container, exhaling loudly when he swallows.

Even though he knows it's a stupid idea, Ed doesn't refuse when Bradley insists he take his turn with the bottle. Instead, as he lifts the container to his lips and feels the burn travel down his throat and into his stomach, the only thing going through Ed's mind is that he has just indirectly shared a kiss with the man who, not 6 hours earlier, had embarrassed and very nearly frightened him.

Enjoying the sensation of warmth spreading through his limbs and the dulling pain in his head, Ed blinks blearily while engaging in a little staring of his own. He notices that a small portion of Bradley's chest hair is peeking out from beneath his loosened collar, with its top button left undone, and Ed briefly wonders what that hair would feel like beneath his fingers. _Would it be rough like he expects? Or maybe as soft as it looks?_ Either way, Ed thinks that he would very much enjoy finding out the answer…

In an effort to distract himself from the dangerous turn his thoughts were taking, Ed asks, "So why did you really come here? And please don't keep insulting my intelligence with your 'I'm just here to apologize' spiel. I'm not buying it."

Lips curling upwards, Bradley glances at Ed out of the corner of his eye before taking another sip of whiskey. A wayward drop of alcohol clings to the older man's lips before Bradley's tongue glides out to catch it before it can get away.

Feeling his pulse quicken in response, Ed cannot help staring at the sensual display in front of him. He knows he's being stupid and incredibly obvious and that if he isn't careful Bradley might catch on to Ed's strange fascination, but the alcohol makes him feel invincible, like nothing can touch him. It's also apparently making him reckless.

"Oh, really? Then why don't you explain why I'm really here. Since you seem to know better than I do," Bradley answers in a somewhat mocking voice, the lenses of his glasses catching the light from the small corner lamp and briefly obscuring the older man's gaze.

Beginning to sweat, Ed takes a small pull of the whiskey, hoping against hope that it will give him the strength he needs to survive this encounter without giving anything important away.

"Y-You. Uh," Ed replies dazedly, now really starting to feel the alcohol's effects, "you came here to get me drunk! And make me look stupid! Again."

Triumphant, and positive that he's figured out Bradley's real scheme, Ed startles when he hears the sound of delighted laughter come from Bradley's direction.

Sulking, Ed watches soundlessly as Bradley's laughter finally dies away. Ed doesn't understand how Bradley could possibly find Ed's serious accusation the least bit amusing.

Still grinning, Bradley looks Ed up and down before saying, "You know, Ed, it doesn't look like you need my help for that. Looks like you're doing a damn good job all on your own."

It's a sign of how far gone he is, that Ed doesn't immediately recognize the fact that he's just been insulted. And by the man who still maintained he'd come here strictly to apologize.

Knocking over the whiskey bottle in his hurry to get away, Ed can't even bring himself to care that the alcohol is staining the no-doubt expensive Persian rug beneath his feet. Ed's had enough, and all he wants is for Bradley to get out and stay the hell away from him.

"Get out, Bradley! Just get the hell out! I'm sick of your little games – telling me you want to apologize and then laughing in my face," Ed yells, moving to cross the room so he can just grab his jacket and go.

Before he can get there, however, he finds his arm captured and held in a strong grasp. In a smooth move Bradley has him turned around and thrust against the front of Ed's desk, gasping in surprise.

Expression unreadable, Bradley moves in close and presses his lips to Ed's ear in a move reminiscent of the boardroom scene from earlier in the day. Then, in a raspy murmur Bradley admonishes, "Is it really so hard for you, Ed? Just to say how you really feel?"

Breathing hard, Ed tries to ignore the fire that voice ignites in the pit of his belly. It's probably just the alcohol, anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bradley. Now let me go," Ed hisses, jerking his arm in an effort to escape.

Maintaining a firm grip, Bradley continues, "I'm talking about the little crush you have on me. I'm talking about the way you watch me whenever we're in the same room. I know you want me, Ed. But what I don't understand is why you keep pretending that you don't. I never took you for a coward."

Suddenly lashing out with his other hand, Ed thinks he hears Bradley release a low sound of pain when his fist connects with the older man's ribs. At least until Bradley snatches that arm as well and clasps it sharply. Now Ed is thoroughly trapped, and unable to do anything except glare helplessly at the futility of it all.

Rolling his eyes and looking dryly amused, Bradley adds, "Now, I may not have pegged you for a coward, but I _definitely_ knew you were a brat."

Panting, Ed pauses to give Bradley a deceptively sweet smile, before replying arrogantly, "Fuck you, Alan Bradley."

Shaking his head in mock admonishment, Bradley retorts, "Actually, Ed, the only one going to be doing the fucking around here is _me_."

Then in a move too fast to give Ed any time to react, Bradley turns him around and forces his palms onto the wood of the desk. Then leaning in closer, Bradley begins to rub his groin between the covered cheeks of Ed's ass.

Swallowing back a moan, Ed is stunned by what he feels. Bradley's cock is digging into him from behind and placing teasing pressure on that hidden entrance inside of him. It made Ed want things that he's only ever thought about in the middle of the night, tucked away safely beneath his covers while he used his own hand to satisfy his secret desires.

Desires that always seemed to include the man currently grinding his pelvis against a soft portion of Ed's anatomy.

Eyes widening in realization, Ed finds he can no longer deny what he truly wants – not even to himself.

"I…I want you. You were right; I was always watching you. Once I started it seemed I just couldn't stop," Ed admits quietly, feeling ashamed of his weakness. Ed knew he should be stronger than this…

"Yessssss…," Bradley hisses, slowing his own hip movements to allow one hand to swiftly reach for the top button on Ed's pants before popping it open and pulling down the zipper. Bradley then begins to pull down both Ed's pants and underwear, which ultimately end up pooling somewhere around Ed's ankles.

Shivering, Ed feels Bradley's hands come down to squeeze and mould his buttocks. The touch of Bradley's bare skin on his feels better than anything Ed has ever imagined, even during his most lurid fantasies.

Shifting to press his lips close to Ed's ear once again, Bradley whispers, "You know, Ed, I think we might have left your door open. What do you think would happen if security were to see you like this? Naked from the waist down and letting me touch you like this?"

Now Ed _did_ moan, the sound cutting through the silence and making Ed's skin flush with heightened color. Ed didn't want to think about what could happen to both of them if they were caught like this. At the very least it would guarantee an end of both their careers.

But the fear and shame aren't enough to stop Ed from pressing back into Bradley's touch.

Chuckling, Bradley lightly pats Ed on the ass before the older man slides down Ed's body and drops to his knees. Curious, Ed was about to ask Bradley just what the hell he thought he was doing down there, when Ed feels his ass cheeks being held open and a rough tongue coming out to circle his rim.

"Unh," Ed cries out, his hands clutching at the desk below as that delicious tongue continues its pleasurable torture. It's rubbing him harder now, the very tip slipping just slightly past the outer muscle but refusing to go all the way inside.

Frustrated, Ed pleads, "Do it, Bradley! Put your tongue in me!"

And before Ed can even think to be self-conscious about his passionate entreaty, Bradley is tongue-fucking him in earnest. The slick appendage was opening him up and seeking out all of Ed's most sensitive places, leaving him gasping for breath and struggling not to come within the first five seconds.

Bradley thrusts his tongue in and out, each plunge bringing Ed that much closer to release. Ed tries to hold on, but as if he senses Ed's internal struggle, Bradley shoves his tongue in faster, finally finding that magic spot inside that makes Ed's mouth fall open and his vision start to white out.

Overcome by the sheer intensity of the moment, Ed can't hear the chocked sounds coming out of his mouth over the roaring sound in his ears. And it isn't but a moment later that Ed's orgasm rushes trough him, causing his semen to splatter all over his desk and stomach and leaving him limp and boneless from sheer satisfaction.

Struggling to catch his breath, Ed collapses face first onto the messy desk, his hands unable to hold him up any longer and leaving Ed thankful that he kept the surface relatively free of clutter.

Ed is so out of his mind with the combination of booze and endorphins that at first he doesn't even notice when Bradley begins to push the head of his erection inside of him.

That is, until the older man pauses and says roughly, "My turn," before carefully forcing his dick the rest of the way inside.

Grunting, Ed doesn't know whether he wants to push back into the thrusts or pull away. There's no denying that every push and pull of Bradley's hips feels good, but it's almost too good. The rough stimulation is almost more than he can bear, after having come mere moments before.

Still, Ed lets Bradley continue thrusting, and even encourages the older man by lifting his right leg and bracing his knee on the desk's surface to give Bradley easier access.

When Bradley accidentally grazes Ed's sensitive prostate, Ed can't stop himself from jerking, the sensations running through him leaving him dizzy and shaking. But before long Ed finds himself pushing back, taking more of Bradley's dick inside of him and if it isn't quite enough to bring Ed back to his previously aroused state, it's still better than anything he's felt in a long time.

It's so wonderful, in fact, that when Bradley finally pulls out and comes in hot streaks along Ed's skin, Ed's own dick twitches in sympathy and releases a small amount of fluid of its own.

Turning his head, Ed watches as Bradley comes up to lean against the desk beside him. The older man is breathing heavily, and Ed can see small patches of wetness on Bradley's shirt that he knows came from the sweat still beading on his skin.

In the brief moments of peace, Ed finds his weary mind replaying the various events of the day, trying to figure out how in the hell it had all been leading here._Only_, Ed thinks in growing comprehension, _maybe it wasn't such a surprise after all_.

Turning to glare at Bradley in disbelief, Ed states accusingly, "You planned this. All of it. Didn't you?"

Still trying to catch his breath, Bradley doesn't seem to understand him at first.

"What are you talking about," Bradley asks, looking both confused and distracted.

Eyeing the older man closely, Ed repeats, "You planned all of this. The whiskey, the little seduction scene, all of it. Hell, I'm starting to think that you even got me all mad at you in the first place just so you could force my hand."

For a moment all Bradley does is stare at Ed blankly, which causes a slight niggle of doubt to begin to grow and fester in the darkened recesses of Ed's mind. He was so sure his suppositions were correct, but maybe it was only wishful thinking on Ed's part...

Until an enormous grin spreads itself across Bradley's face and then the older man is pulling Ed up from the desk, taking Ed's face between his hands, and leaning over to plant one very enthusiastic kiss on startled lips.

Once he gets over his initial astonishment, Ed begins kissing back just as enthusiastically and even opens his mouth in invitation.

And as he raises his hands to wrap them around Bradley's neck, Ed starts to strongly suspect that he just might someday be able to forgive the older man for deceiving him…especially if he keeps doing that wicked thing with his tongue…


End file.
